


Heavy Ice

by FlyingMachine



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Bracca is an unsafe workplace, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ilum, Making out in the great outdoors, Mantis Crew, Post-Canon, Post-Order 66, Trauma, spoilers for the whole game, winter weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingMachine/pseuds/FlyingMachine
Summary: Three times Cal Kestis was freezing cold, and one time he wasn't cold at all.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Merrin
Comments: 37
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter 1

The escape pod’s viewing porthole was glazed with space frost. Cal Kestis stared down at Bracca, his vision blurry with tears.

_ENTERING ATMOSPHERE  
FASTEN SAFETY HARNESSES_

The escape pod’s flat computer-generated voice blared at him. He sat down in one of the jumpseats and strapped himself in. He clutched Master Tapal’s broken lightsaber in his left hand and wiped his face on his sleeve. He couldn’t seem to stop crying. 

Master Tapal’s empty robes lay in a pile on the floor. He was gone, and Cal was alone in the pod as it hurtled toward Bracca.

He felt sick, his stomach drawn in a tight knot. The pod was falling fast, clouds whipping past in a blur. Cal looked at the navigational computer. A glowing gold arc traced the pod’s path, the projected landing zone marked with a blue target. 

Cal pulled his knees up to his chest, ready for the impact. He wondered if it would hurt. His heart was racing so quickly that he felt dizzy and breathless, like he couldn’t get enough air. He tried to take deep breaths like Master Tapal had taught him, to feel his heartbeat slow and calm. He reached for the Force, needing its strength.

Terror seized him, and instead of calming light, he saw Master Tapal, wounded, struggling against the troops who had been their allies. Fear choked him, and Cal slammed down his mental barriers, closing himself off from the Force. The connection ached and throbbed like a wound in his mind, and Cal flinched away from the pain.

_IMPACT IN FIVE…FOUR...THREE..._

Out of the porthole, Cal saw lights streaking by. 

_ALL OCCUPANTS BRACE FOR IMPACT_

The pod slammed into the ground and Cal was thrown hard against the restraints. His vision grayed out and went black around the edges as the pod tumbled end over end. It came to a sudden sharp stop, throwing Cal against his seat. 

Cal pulled in a few shaky breaths, trying to quell his nausea and fear. He hung awkwardly in his harness; the escape pod had landed at an angle that put him nearly on his side. Something was jabbing him hard in the ribs, and Cal fumbled with the buckle on the harness.

He released it, and tumbled down out of his jumpseat. Metal clanked next to him, and Cal saw that he had dropped Master Tapal’s lightsaber. He snatched it back up and clipped it to his belt where it would be safe. His hands shook, and Cal felt like he’d just finished a particularly intense training exercise. 

The past few hours felt completely unreal, and Cal half-expected that any moment now, Master Tapal would kill the simulation and he would find himself back aboard the _Albedo Brave,_ surrounded by the walls of the training rooms. Cal also knew that wishing for something did not make it so. Tears threatened to overwhelm him once again, and he swallowed hard against the tight lump growing in his throat. He knew he needed to focus and think clearly, even though his mind felt numb. It seemed impossible to comprehend what had happened.

The pod’s computer was beeping insistently, flashing a dozen warning lights, and Cal knew he should look at the readouts to try and find out where he was. He dragged himself to his feet, aching and exhausted. His mind felt clouded and slow, and his head hurt. 

He touched the computer screen and looked at the readouts. The pod was badly damaged but it had done its job.

Part of Cal wished it hadn’t. 

The thought came to him, unbidden, and Cal thought it should have frightened him but it did not. It simply hung there, the certain knowledge that Master Tapal had died because of him, because he hadn’t done enough to save him. It was the knot in his stomach and the searing ache in his mind. He had been tested, he had failed, and Master Tapal was dead. His old life was gone, annihilated in a handful of minutes. 

Now he was alone.

Cal knew he couldn’t stay here with the pod. Bracca was colonized, and he knew he needed to find somewhere to get a call out to the Jedi council. Maybe someone could come pick him up. He looked out of the small viewport. Cracks spiderwebbed across it, and through the broken window Cal could see only muddy plains and sheeting rain. What little hope he had felt ebbed away at the prospect that he was very far from anyone who could help him.

He tried to gather himself and think. Master Tapal had sent him on survival training with the _Albedo Brave’s_ battalion, and Cal focused on remembering what he had learned. 

The escape pod had a locker of emergency supplies. Cal opened it and found a sturdy pack, emergency rations, a field med-kit, toolkit, and extra clothing. Cal looked down at his padawan’s robes. It wasn’t safe to be known as a Jedi anymore.

The emergency clothing consisted of simple mechanic’s coveralls and a few ponchos to protect the wearer from the weather. Cal guessed the smallest size would fit him, and he changed clothes. The coveralls were baggy and a little too big, but Cal didn’t care. He took the lightsaber from his belt and wrapped it in his robes. He stuffed the bundle into the bottom of the pack and loaded the medkit, rations, and a few tools in on top of it. 

He went to the computer and punched in the command to call up the emergency broadcast channel. He was assaulted by what sounded like hundreds of voices in too many languages to name, all squawking distress codes. Cal flinched and muted the channel. He had a terrible feeling that whatever had happened on the _Albedo Brave_ had happened on other ships too. He doubted his own signal would be heard in the noise, but he touched the command to broadcast anyway. 

He needed navigation and communication. He took the wrist comm and small datapad from the computer panel and synched them together. He shoved the datapad in his pack. He closed the pack and put it on, wincing as it pressed on his shoulders, bruised from where he had been thrown against the harness. He pulled one of the ponchos on over everything, hoping it would protect him from the rain.

He tapped the door release switch and the hatch creaked open. Cal peered out, wary of what might be outside. The rain limited his visibility, but he seemed to be completely alone. According to Cal’s comm it was midday on Bracca, but the heavy clouds made it seem much later.

He climbed out of the pod and his boots sank several inches into the mud. Walking in ankle-deep mud would be hard going, and Cal already felt nearly too tired to walk. He had no idea which way to go, and the hopeless feeling came back once more. He sat down under the canted escape pod, which provided a little protection from the driving rain. Cold mud soaked into his pants, but Cal didn’t care. He felt like leaving the pod would be deserting Master Tapal. 

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Cal sat for a long time, staring at nothing, thinking about nothing. He was distantly aware of how cold he was, of the mud soaking into his clothes, and the rain dripping from the hood of his poncho. Every so often he looked at his comm, hoping that someone had picked up his distress signal. He knew he needed to get up, walk somewhere, find help.

But he couldn’t. He hadn’t given Master Tapal the proper rites. 

Cal slipped the pack from his shoulders. He rifled through the emergency kit and found a multitool, the same kind he often used to tinker on old droids and circuit boards. He got to his feet and found the access hatch for the escape pod’s battery packs. He popped it open, and it was easy to crosswire the circuits. Soon the battery packs began to beep overload warnings.

He grabbed his backpack and jogged away, the mud sucking at his boots. He heard fuses pop, and blue flames began to lick up the sides of the pod, smoke billowing despite the rain. His eyes flooded with tears as flames grew higher and hotter, untouched by the rain as they ripped through the shell of the pod, fed by the insulation and batteries inside. His mind felt blank, and the only thing he could think was _I’m sorry._ He had never been so sorry for anything in his life. 

Cal turned away, feeling the heat of the blaze on his back. The warmth did little for him; he was so cold, he couldn’t stop shivering. The rain was like needles on his face, and stung in the blaster burn across his neck and jaw. He scrubbed his wet sleeve across his eyes, wiping away his tears. 

The map on his datapad showed a major road running toward a city some miles away. _Bracca Shipyard,_ it read. Cal tugged his poncho around himself, grateful for its protection. He walked toward the road, hoping it would be a real road and not a mud track. His legs were already aching from the heavy mud. 

He was relieved to see that it was a real road meant for heavy vehicle traffic. He stepped up on the asphalt, acutely aware of how alone he was. No vehicles sped by, no other lifeforms registered on his datapad when he scanned the area. Bracca Shipyard was twenty kilometers away by road, and Cal had no idea how he was going to make it there.

He focused only on walking, forcing his tired legs to keep moving, plodding along the empty road. Open pits lined the road, some surrounded by tall fences and warning signs, others filled with the huge hulks of half-scrapped starships. Cal wondered if the whole planet was a scrapyard.

It took all of his concentration to stay on his feet. He reached for the Force, hoping to draw on its strength to keep himself upright and moving. Terror seized him, and once again he stood before the clone troopers and their blaster rifles, his hands flung out, desperate to stop them. 

His control of the Force slipped away. Cal felt like he couldn’t breathe, and the sick feeling came back. His connection to the Force ached like a deep bruise and he couldn’t stand it. This new development frightened him, but he had no energy to examine it closely. Later, when he was warm and dry and rested, he would try again. 

For now he had to keep moving, and reach safety.

Cal became aware of a low rumbling sound coming from behind him. He turned around to see an enormous convoy of haulers crawling down the road. He had never seen anything like it. It looked like a train, many flatbed vehicles linked together, their huge tires taking up nearly the width of the road. The haulers were piled high with broken scrap. Cal recognized parts of starships, gunships, droids, old conduit, carbon-scorched hull plating, an entire galaxy’s worth of junk.

The road train showed no sign of stopping, and Cal hurried off the side of the road to get out of the way before it ran him over. It was a sharp drop down from the roadbed, and Cal sunk to his ankles in the sludgy mud. He pulled his hood closer around his face and hoped the driver, if there was one, didn’t notice him. 

The road train moved slowly, but it was catching up to Cal’s pace. _Please don’t see me,_ he thought. The road train pulled up beside him, the engine of the lead hauler clanking, missing, and spewing black exhaust. Cal didn’t look up, and tried to walk faster. He was so tired and cold, and his legs burned with fatigue. Unable to call on the Force for strength, he felt despair creeping back, empty and hollow in his chest. 

“Hey, you need a ride or what?” 

The voice carried over the enormous noise of the engine. Cal looked up to see the driver: an Abednedo with a tough-looking face and kind eyes. Cal knew better than to trust anybody, and he put his head down and kept walking. He hoped the driver would just pass him and leave him alone. He didn’t want to know what would happen if someone found out what he was doing here. 

“I can’t stop this thing, buddy, so make up your mind,” the Abednedo shouted.

Cal made the calculation. He was so cold that he couldn’t feel his fingers, and the rain showed no sign of stopping. He was exhausted, nearly at the end of his reserves. He had yet to see any place for shelter besides the huge open junk pits that lined the road. Master Tapal had given him a final task: to wait for a rescue, and hold the line, whatever that meant. He had promised that he would. He could still honor his promise. 

“Okay,” he shouted up at the driver. 

“Okay, I’m gonna open this door and you just climb on up.” The driver swung open his door and held out one huge hand. Cal had to jog a little to get some momentum, his stiff legs protesting every step. He grabbed the driver’s hand and his feet left the ground as the Abednedo pulled him into the cab without effort. The driver slid to the other side of the bench seat to make room for Cal.

“Close that door,” he said. Cal slammed the door shut; it didn't catch and bounced back open. Cal thought the whole thing might fall off. He gave it a second jerk and felt it latch. The driver’s cab was warm, and Cal was glad to be out of the rain. 

“Thanks for the lift,” Cal said to the driver. His voice felt raw and rusty.

“Yeah, no problem. It’s pretty bad out there.” 

“Yeah,” Cal agreed. 

“I’m Prauf,” the driver said. “You got a name?” Cal hesitated. He wondered if it was safe to give his real name. He struggled to think of an alias, but exhaustion clouded his thoughts. 

“Cal,” he said finally. His name was ordinary enough, he didn't see any danger in using it on a planet where he had never been and didn't intend to stay.

“Well Cal, nice to meet you. Hope you’re headed for the shipyard, because this thing only goes one direction once you get it moving,” Prauf said.

“Yeah, I am,” Cal said. He hoped Prauf wouldn’t ask too many questions, and he knew he needed to come up with some explanation for what he was doing on Bracca that hid the truth. For now it would be best to stay quiet and not draw attention to himself. He didn’t want anyone looking at him too closely, in case they saw what he was: a Force user, a failed padawan, an enemy, and a coward.

“What is this thing?” Cal asked. He noticed that the land train seemed to drive itself with minimal input from Prauf. The driver’s cab had a central instrument panel with a steering yoke, but Prauf only made the occasional adjustment by tapping commands into a battered datapad wired into the dashboard.

“Scrap hauler,” Prauf replied. “It’s not my usual job but it’s nice to get off the breaking yard sometimes.”

“Oh,” Cal said. He knew Bracca had a large scrapping operation, but had never realized exactly what that meant. He also realized that it would be better if he didn’t talk, and give away too much. Prauf didn’t seem dangerous, but he didn’t know anything about the people here, or how they felt about the Republic. 

“Well pal, it’s a long ride back to the yard. I would tell you to enjoy the scenery, but there’s not much of it.”

“That’s okay,” Cal said. He gathered his poncho around him. He was still shivering. He pulled his knees up and clasped them to his chest, trying to warm up. 

Without thinking, Cal pulled his hood back and immediately regretted it as the rough fabric brushed the raw blaster graze on his neck. He swallowed hard against the pain, which had been drowned out by all of his other discomforts until now. Prauf let out a low whistle and Cal knew he had seen the wound. 

“That’s some burn, kid. What happened to you?”

Cal wished he could hide under the seat. His mind spun frantically, trying to come up with an explanation for the wound. All he could think about was a rain of blaster fire, the shock of pain and nearly overwhelming fear… His stomach twisted tight with anxiety and Cal felt sick all over again.

He bit his lip hard. He didn’t have to tell anyone anything. He only needed to get to the shipyard, and get a call out for help. He turned away from Prauf and stared out the window. Rivulets of rain trickled down the glass. 

Prauf gave him a thoughtful look, then turned a dial on the dashboard. The heater cranked harder, and the warmth finally seemed to penetrate through Cal’s poncho and wet coveralls. 

“That’s alright. You just sit here and warm up,” Prauf said, not pressing for an answer. “See those lights up there? That’s the shipbreaking yard.” Prauf pointed a thick finger at the hazy glow of artificial lights on the horizon. Cal saw huge shadows outlined against the lights and he realized they were starships. The Bracca Shipyard must be enormous. It would be a good place to hide out and disappear while he tried to make sense of what had happened.

For the first time all day he felt a flicker of hope. He could get a distress call out, get off Bracca, and get his orders from the Council. He would follow Master Tapal's final orders, and do what he could to help hold the line.


	2. Chapter 2

Snow was a rare sight in the shipbreaking yard. It had started with cold rain that gradually turned to ice, then light, fluffy flakes that dusted every exposed surface. At first the snow had been dirty as it soaked up all of the shipbreaking yard’s grime, melting quickly as it touched hot electrical lines and worklights. But the air had gotten colder, and as the hours passed and the temperature kept dropping, the snow stopped melting and started accumulating. Now the shipyard was covered in heavy white.

Cal was in his fourth winter on Bracca, and even though he never really got used to being cold, he had learned to tolerate it. Scrapyard work never stopped, except in the most extreme conditions. His plasma torch threw off enough heat to keep his hands from freezing as he worked. He sliced out another instrument panel and tossed it onto the long ramp connecting his scaffold to a flatbed barge. 

The ramp was choked with snow and ice and the panel skidded a few meters and got stuck well before it hit the barge, joining the pile of scrap Cal had flung across. Cal sighed. He would have to clear the ramp to keep working. He snapped off his torch and stepped out from under the awning formed by a half-scrapped hangar. 

Snow fell heavily around him, and the shipbreaking yard seemed quieter, dampened by the snow. It softened the sharp edges and hid the filth generated by scrapping work.

Cal didn’t think the shipbreaking yard could ever be described as pretty, but the soft blanket of snow did give it an interesting, cleaner look. He tapped his comm.

“Hey Prauf, you see what’s going on out here?” Heavy boots thumped behind him and Prauf turned the corner.

“You think they’ll call end of shift early today?” Prauf asked him. 

“I hope not,” Cal said. “That’s a half-day’s pay.”

“Yeah,” Prauf agreed. “They’re going to have to start de-icing soon. It’s already getting slippery out there. Maybe they’ll give us hazard pay for the job.” Ice removal was a dangerous assignment, requiring the riggers to climb around on structures heavily covered with ice and snow and spray them down with powerful de-icing compounds.

Cal laughed. “Probably just the hazards without the pay.”

“You got that right,” Prauf agreed.

Cal eyed the various gantries, catwalks, and ladders the riggers used to travel from ship to ship. All of it was covered in snow and ice, and scrappers carefully picked their way across. An icy wind cut between the ships and seemed to go right through all of Cal’s clothes. He shivered. The air smelled cold and crisp and promised more snow.

“Can you give me a hand?” Cal asked Prauf. “I need to get this stuff on the barge before the next drop.” He pointed to his stuck pile of scrap.

“Be careful pal, it’s already real slick,” Prauf said. Cal grinned at him, then pulled the gray knit buff he wore up over his mouth and nose to protect his face from the burning wind.

“I got it,” he said. He stepped to the edge of the ramp and crouched down, putting out one boot to test the slickness. Prauf grasped his elbow to anchor him as he tried to reach the pile with the toe of his boot and give it a kick. His heel slipped out immediately when he touched the ramp, and Cal saw that he couldn’t reach.

“Let me go,” Cal said to Prauf. He was going to have to slide down and use his weight to dislodge the pile. He hoped to calculate his slide to push the scrap onto the barge without going over the edge. He pushed off and slid down on his hip, giving the pile of scrap a shove with his boot on the way down. Freed from the snow, it slid the rest of the way down to the barge and Cal followed it, coming to a stop against the pile. The droid barge pilot scolded him in binary; Cal ignored it.

“You have a plan to get back up here?” Prauf called down to him. Cal looked over the edge of the barge, down to the next platform. It was an easy drop, and he could climb back up to Prauf’s level.

“See you in a minute,” he called. He stepped backwards over the side of the barge and caught the edge to arrest his fall. He dangled for a moment by his fingertips and swung himself over to the lower platform. The ladder up was coated in clear ice, and the climb back was more nerve wracking than the drop down. Prauf waited for him at the top, shaking his head.

“You’re reckless Cal. One day you’re going to miss a landing, and I’m not pulling you out of the Maw.”

Cal shrugged.

“There’s worse ways to go, probably,” he said, dusting the snow off of his heavy jacket.

“Not _much_ worse,” Prauf said. He nudged Cal to get his attention. “Look sharp, pal, Foreman’s coming.” Cal straightened up when he heard the clanking footsteps of one of the foreman-droids coming down a gantry. 

“Wonder what this is about,” Prauf muttered.

“Doubt it’s anything good,” Cal replied. The droid stopped in front of them. Cal couldn’t tell its make; it had been mended with a diverse assortment of parts, the most notable of which included the head from an old IG unit.

“Shift managers have recommended de-icing on this line,” it said. As it spoke, a barge carrying ice removal equipment pulled up to the platform, coiled hoses nearly spilling from the open sides. Cal fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“They just figured that out now, huh?” he asked the foreman. He felt Prauf’s hand on his shoulder, a gentle reminder to watch his mouth.

“You will de-ice this line so that work can continue,” the foreman droned. “Ice removal equipment has been provided. Shift hours have been extended to accommodate this work.”

Another blast of freezing wind tore across the platform, and Cal tugged his synthwool beanie farther down over his ears. He already felt chilled to his core.

“Will there be hot chocolate too?” he muttered, and Prauf gave him a warning look.

“No problem, Foreman,” Prauf said. 

“Get to work!” the droid chirped.

Cal jammed his freezing hands into his armpits. The snow had gotten heavier and blew across the platforms in swirling gusts. His cheeks burned with cold and felt raw from the wind.

“Come on,” Prauf said. “The sooner we get this done the sooner we can get inside.”  


He unloaded the long hose from the de-icing barge and threw the series of switches that would start the pumps. The ice-removal rig was simple: a tank of glycol de-icer, a pump to put it through the hose, and a spray nozzle to distribute the deicer. Prauf worked from the top of the platform to the bottom, sweeping it with an even coating of bright orange de-icer. 

Cal grabbed a shovel from the snow-clearing barge and got to work, hoping that shoveling would help him warm up. He dumped shovelful after shovelful of orange-stained, half-melted slush over the side, where it disappeared into the open Maw below them. 

He wondered how the Maw felt about glycol and slush, but decided that an organism that regularly digested scrapped starships probably wasn’t that discerning.

He had the work platform cleared, and he and Prauf climbed aboard the barge to move up to the next level. All around them, other riggers were doing the same work, clearing the work areas so that the shipbreaking could continue. 

Cal’s boots slipped in the ankle-deep snow when he debarked the barge. He glanced over at Prauf, who looked gray in the cold. 

“Doing okay?” he asked. Prauf nodded and clapped his hands together. 

“Only the rest of the line to go,” he joked.

“Just think warm thoughts,” Cal said.

Cal opened the nozzle on the de-icing hose and drenched the platform while Prauf shoveled it clear. They repeated this process what seemed like two dozen times, and Cal lost track of time. He dragged off his gloves and rubbed his numb hands together in front of a portable infrared heater, wincing at the pins and needles sensation of returning feeling. 

“Still have your fingers?” Prauf called.

“For now,” Cal replied. He had never wanted a hot shower so badly. He stood in front of the heater for a few minutes, letting its meager warmth soak through his jacket. 

Behind him, he heard Prauf swearing. He turned to see him struggling with the de-icing nozzle. A thin stream of de-icer trickled out, not nearly enough to spray down the line.

“Damn thing’s clogged,” Prauf said impatiently. Cal could tell the cold was affecting him, too. He looked pale, with frost riming his nostrils and the delicate tendrils around his mouth. Cal put his gloves back on.

“Come over here and warm up. I’ll take a look at it,” he said. Prauf took his place at the heater. Cal looked down at the barge, several levels below them now. “Sounds like something’s not running right.”

As he and Prauf had zigzagged their way up the line, they had left the de-icing equipment below them and across a significant gap. Cal guessed he could use one of the ramps for momentum and jump across instead of threading his way back down through the catwalks and gantries.

“I’m gonna go see what’s wrong with it,” Cal said, pointing down at the barge.

He stepped on to the ramp and immediately began to slide. He crouched low to keep his balance and when he reached the end, threw all of his weight forward to fling himself over the gap. He tucked his knees to his chest and flipped over, feeling the icy wind on his face as he flew for a few exhilarating moments, the open pits of the shipbreaking yard flying past below. 

He spotted his landing, a clear spot on the barge. He landed hard, skidding across the icy flatbed. His stomach flipped when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to stick his landing. He flailed out with one hand, reaching for one of the waist-high rails on the barge. It arrested his slide, stopping him with a painful jolt that ran all the way up his side and through his shoulder. His boots slid out from under him, off the edge, and for a long moment Cal hung halfway off of the barge, feeling his gloves slip on the rail.

He put all of his strength into pulling himself back and up, and managed to scramble back from the edge. He stood up, shaking, his heart racing with the combination of fear and adrenaline that made him feel invincible and totally free.

Years ago, when his life was different, Cal had been able to do the same acrobatics by calling on the Force to lift and propel him. It reassured him that he could still fly if he wanted to, still reach that breathless feeling, even without using the Force. 

He looked up to see if Prauf had seen him; he knew his friend wouldn’t approve of his reckless traversal of the gap. Through the haze of snow he saw Prauf, watching from above. Prauf shook his head and Cal grinned at him and flipped him a thumbs-up. His hair blew into his eyes and Cal raked it back, realizing that the wind had snatched his hat away when he had flipped over. 

He pulled in a deep breath of cold air and let it out, coughing as it seared his lungs. The weather was getting worse, and he and Prauf needed to get inside out of the cold. The glycol pump on the barge was running rough. Cal opened the housing on the tank and found the impeller struggling to turn, stirring the de-icer around in sluggish, erratic circles. Ice had begun to rime the motor in its poorly insulated housing.

“Only the best equipment here on Bracca,” Cal muttered. He tapped his comm to open a channel to Prauf.

“Hey Prauf, the impeller’s seizing up. I’m gonna try to get some heat on the motor.”

“No hurry,” Prauf replied, and Cal detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “There’s plenty to shovel.”

Cal looked around for anything he could use to get heat on the struggling motor. A defunct infrared heater sat in one dark corner, half-covered in scrap. Cal dragged it out and switched it on. Nothing happened, and he saw that the power cord had been sheared away. He cursed softly. 

He put the heater in front of the de-icing unit and dug through the discarded scrap for something he could use for a power source. His ears burned with cold, and he regretted losing his hat. He shifted a piece of mangled hull plating aside, and revealed a powered-down EG-6 unit. 

“Who left you here?” he asked it. The boxy power-droid looked like it had been there for a long time, nearly buried in loose conduit and other trash. Cal hoped it still had some power. He switched it on and for a few long seconds, nothing happened. Cal felt his frustration rising, exacerbated by the cold. He was ready to give it a solid kick when its control panel illuminated and it came to life with a low, flat _gonk._

“I think I’m in love,” Cal said when he saw that it was still functional. The EG-6s were only programmed for simple commands, and it responded with a confused beep. “It’s alright, I know we just met,” Cal said.

“Can you power that heater?” Cal asked it. “I need to warm up the motor.” The droid shuffled over to the infrared heater and Cal snipped the frayed end off of the power cord and spliced it into the droid’s power socket. The heater glowed to life, putting out a wall of warmth.

Cal put it as close to the motor as he dared, blasting it with heat. The ice around the motor began to melt, and the engine warmed up and came back to life. The impeller once again spun freely. Cal tapped his comm.

“Hey Prauf, give it a try.” 

“Alright, we’re back in business, pal. Maybe we won’t freeze to death up here after all,” Prauf’s voice crackled over the comm. Cal patted the EG unit on its flat top.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said, and received only another _gonk_ in response. He stole a few more minutes of warmth from the heater. Standing still, he was aware of how sore, tired and cold he felt, and he knew he still had hours of work left. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes and felt ice in it. He wondered if he would ever feel warm again, even if he broiled himself in a hot shower.

“You coming back up, Cal?” Prauf called over his comm. 

“You seem like you’ve got it under control,” Cal replied. “Want me to bring you anything for dinner?”

“If you slipped and fell into a pit, everyone would think it was an accident,” Prauf said. Cal laughed. 

“If you push me off the edge, you’ll be shoveling snow by yourself,” he pointed out. 

“Come on, we’re almost done,” Prauf said. Cal lingered in front of the heater for a few more seconds. It was a long, cold climb back up to Prauf.

“Yeah. I’m on my way.”

At the Space Cadet, Cal slumped against the corner of his booth, too exhausted to sit up straight. The bar was a dive in every way, but it was warm and dry inside. A hot dinner had done him a world of good, but sitting down had been a mistake. The hard work of clearing the line had taken everything out of him. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he was content to sit and soak in the heat. He heard Prauf speak to one of the serving droids.

Something sweet and warm-smelling thumped down on the table in front of him and Cal wondered vaguely what kind of drink Prauf had ordered. Prauf reached across the table and nudged him.

“Hey pal, don’t fall asleep on me yet.”

Cal blinked and shook himself awake. Two steaming mugs topped with whipped cream and dusted with spices sat in front of him and Prauf. Cal picked his up and took a sip, and the richly spiced hot chocolate chased away the last lingering chill.

“You like spiced chocolate?” Cal asked, curious. It was a child’s comfort drink by most standards, and Cal had mostly been joking when he had asked for one earlier. Prauf shrugged.

“Don’t know. Never had it before.” He took a sip. “Yeah, that’s good stuff,” he said approvingly. Cal nursed his own mug, the heat from the ceramic warming his hands.

“You did good work out there today, Cal. It’s nice to have someone reliable out on the line with me,” Prauf said, raising his mug in salute. Prauf’s praise warmed him more than he would like to admit. Cal grinned, feeling better despite his fatigue.

“Let’s not do it again sometime,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Ilum’s cold stayed with Cal for a long time. 

He dragged himself back to the _Mantis,_ shivering so hard he could barely stay on his feet. Ice crunched under his boots and he wrapped his arms around himself, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other. His skirmish with the walkers had warmed him up briefly, but now that the adrenaline was fading he had nothing to protect him from the biting wind that cut straight through his wet clothes.

He couldn’t recall a time he had ever felt so cold, and he knew he was skating close to hypothermia. His entire body felt heavy and numb. He could see the ice on his eyelashes and feel his clothes freezing to him.

He reached for the Force, drawing its strength to him and cloaking himself in its warmth. He knew it was a false warmth but it was enough to get him to the _Mantis._ BD-1 trilled soft encouragement in his ear, and Cal knew he was in bad shape when he couldn’t feel the little droid’s weight on his shoulders. 

“I’m okay,” he said through chattering teeth. “We’re almost there.” BD-1 replied with a soft, doubtful _boop_.

Ilum’s sharp winds had picked up again, and clouds gathered along the mountains. The snow blew hard enough that it nearly obscured the _Mantis._ Cal hoped they would be able to take off in time to beat the weather.

The _Mantis’_ gangway felt ten kilometers long, but Cal knew Greez and Cere were waiting for him. As soon as he was inside, Greez closed the ramp, shutting out the howling wind and snow.

When she saw Cal, Cere’s brow creased with concern.

“What happened?” she asked, taking in his frozen clothes and the lightsaber on his hip. He touched the hilt of the lightsaber. His mind felt numbed by the cold, and he struggled to respond. It was too much to tell, and Cal wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it yet. He thought Cere would understand.

“You can tell us later. You need to get warm.” she said. Greez looked from Cal to Cere.

“We gotta get out of here. I’m gonna get us somewhere safe, and then I’m going to make us all a nice dinner.” He poked Cal in the chest. “You need a good, hot stew, and so do I.” 

“You didn’t even go outside,” Cal said.

“Just looking at you is making me cold,” Greez said, waving his right hands at Cal’s frozen clothes. He looked at Cere. “Can you come up and scramble our signal?” She nodded.

“I’ll be right there.”

Greez had the _Mantis_ off the ground and out of the atmosphere in record time. Cal was glad it was a short walk from the cockpit to his quarters. He sat down heavily on his bunk, wishing he could just lie down and go to sleep. He leaned back against the bulkhead for a moment and closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion wash over him. Something poked him hard in the shoulder and Cal jumped awake, blinking. BD-1 trilled at him, urging him to get up. Cal shook himself, feeling the unpleasant cling of his cold, soaked clothes.

“Yeah, okay, I’m moving,” he said. BD-1 hopped down onto his bunk and gave him the most reproachful look Cal had ever seen from a droid. He unclipped his lightsaber and laid it on his workbench where it would be safe with BD-1.

He unbuckled his boots and pulled them off, then sat them by one of the heating vents to dry out. Greez had been running the _Mantis’_ heat full blast since they left Ilum. His quarters were pleasantly warm, but Cal felt as though he were frozen all the way through, and even the _Mantis’ _good heater wasn’t enough to thaw him out. He dug out a dry change of clothes and his towel. He hoped a scalding shower would cure most of his ills.__

____

__

In the ‘fresher, he peeled off his half-thawed jacket, shirt, and pants and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. He stepped in and slumped down against the cubicle wall to sit on the floor. He let the hot water run over him until his skin turned red and the ice melted out of his hair. He rested his forehead on his knees and left himself drift as the heat eased the aches and pains he had accumulated in Ilum’s ice caverns. 

A loud banging on the door startled him.

“Whatever you’re doing in there, it’s not worth missing this stew for. Hurry up!” Greez called through the door. Cal got to his feet and finished washing up. 

He pulled on one of the soft, long-sleeved gray thermal shirts that he wore under his jacket and stepped into clean, dry pants. The _Mantis’_ deck felt chilly even through his socks, but his boots were a lost cause until they dried out. He exited the ‘fresher in a cloud of steam. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, combing out the tangles in hopes that it dried in some kind of order. Absently, he looked out through the _Mantis’_ cockpit and blinked when he saw a huge asteroid tumble past.

“Are we in an asteroid field?” he asked.

“Greez thought it would be safest here,” Cere said from her place at the table.

“Too bad you missed the landing. It was one of my best yet,” Greez said. He was stirring something in a large pot on the stove, and a delicious smell wafted through the ship.

“You landed us on an asteroid? I didn’t know you had it in you, Greez,” Cal said, impressed. 

“You shouldn’t doubt my skills, Cal. If the Empire wants to try to find us in here, good luck to ‘em,” Greez said. He turned off the burner and placed the pot of stew in the center of the table. Cal slid into his seat and ladled out a bowlful of stew.

“We never doubt you, Greez,” Cere said. 

Silence stretched out across the table as they ate, and Cal could feel Cere and Greez’s curiosity. He felt strange, almost shy, like he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to talk to them about what had happened in the ice caves yet. He needed time to reflect, and he knew Cere would encourage him to meditate and try to better understand his feelings. He wasn’t ready to do that yet, either, since the last time he had tried had ended so disastrously.

“This is very good, Greez,” Cere said, breaking the lull. Cal agreed with her: the stew was rich with spices and herbs and filled Cal with warmth as he ate. Greez puffed up at the praise.

“It’s an old recipe,” he said.

“From your great-grandmother?” Cere asked.

“Of course.”  


The sharp wail of an alarm rang through the ship. Greez put down his spoon, irritated at his dinner being interrupted. He left the table and went up to the cockpit, leaving Cal and Cere alone. Cere gave Cal a thoughtful look.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him, and Cal looked down at his soup.

“Fine,” he said. “Tired.”

“Ilum was always a trial. I can tell something important happened to you out there,” she said. “It would do you well to reflect and meditate on your experience.” Cal knew she was right. He had a lot to think about, but he needed to do it alone.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Still working on it.”

“Good,” she said. “Is everything okay up there?” she called to Greez.

“Just a proximity sensor,” Greez said as he returned to the table. “We’re fine.” Cal looked out of the cockpit and he could see asteroids lazily tumbling by. He trusted Greez’s judgment, but the idea of the _Mantis_ parked on a moving asteroid did unsettle him.

“It won’t hurt us to stay here for a night,” Cere said. 

Greez rubbed his hands together and looked at Cal. “Okay then. What are we going to do with our evening? Wanna see if you and Cere can beat me at sabacc?”

Cal felt too tired to move, but he was curious if Greez was as good of a gambler as he had talked himself up to be. Cere chuckled. 

“Okay, but we’re only playing for spoons, no credits,” she said. Greez waved two hands dismissively.

“Yeah, okay. Cere, I’ll even let you deal.”

Cal was an indifferent sabacc player, despite Prauf’s best efforts to teach him back on Bracca. He lacked the patience to keep track of everyone’s hands, and after a while it was clear that Cere was an expert at the game anyway. His tired mind drifted, losing track of cards and turns. Cere and Greez were patient with him, and Cal enjoyed the company more than the actual game. Even so, he was relieved when Cere called, and he and Greez laid their cards out.

“I think we know how you got in trouble with the Haxion Brood,” Cere joked, looking at Greez’s hand. Greez scoffed, but Cal could tell he wasn’t really angry. Cere laid down her winning hand and scooped up the pile of silverware they were using in place of money. 

“Maybe next time, Greez,” she said.

“Yeah, I should’ve known better than to play sabacc with two Jedi. Where does ‘using the Force to cheat at cards’ fall in your code, huh?”

Cal laughed. “It’s the first thing they teach padawans, Greezy. How to cheat at cards is a very important Jedi skill. Right up there with mind-control and mastering the lightsaber.”

Greez looked nervous. “What do you mean ‘mind control?’” He looked from Cere to Cal. “What have you two been doing to me?” 

Cal shrugged. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m mostly just a padawan and Cere doesn’t use the Force anymore. You’re fine.”

Greez stabbed a finger at Cal’s chest. “If I find out you two have been mind-controlling me, you’re both going out the airlock as soon as we’re off this rock.” Cere exchanged a glance with Cal and he saw the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Well Greez,” she said smoothly, “let us know if you figure it out.” 

Greez looked nervously from her to Cal. 

“I should have never taken this job,” he said, throwing his hands up. Cal patted him on the shoulder.

“Think of how boring your life would be if we weren’t around,” he said. “You’d still be on the run from the Haxion Brood, worrying about how you’re going to pay off the _Mantis._ ”

“Yeah, and since I met you two, I’m on the run from Imperial Inquisitors, worrying about how I’m going to pay off the _Mantis._ ”

“That’s an upgrade,” Cal said, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

“That’s debatable,” Greez said.

“Go to bed Cal,” Cere said gently. 

“Yeah kid, grab some sleep,” Greez agreed. “You look done.”

Cal straightened up, stiff from sitting. All of the bruises and scrapes he had acquired in the caves were making themselves felt. He stretched, wincing.

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Cal shuffled back to his quarters and closed the door behind him. He rubbed his gritty eyes and sat down on his bunk. He still felt chilled and weak, despite the warmth of the air. He noticed a blanket folded at the foot of his bunk that hadn’t been there before. It looked like an Imperial-issue gray field blanket, and Cal expected scratchy, synthetic wool. He didn’t mind-- he was grateful for the extra warmth.

When he unfolded it, he found it to be soft, heavy gaberwool, striped with blue and red. It must have cost a small fortune, and he wondered where it had come from. He lay down and flung it over himself, too tired to get it tucked in properly. The weight of it was comforting, the warmth exactly right. His bones felt like they might melt into the thin mattress of his bunk, and exhaustion hit him like a train.

He felt weight by his pillow, and knew BD-1 had hopped up on his bunk.

“ ‘Night buddy,” he mumbled, and BD-1 cooed softly. Cal felt the purr of servos and something bumped his elbow, tugging at his blanket. Soft wool brushed his ear as the blanket was drawn up over his shoulders.

Cal opened one eye to see BD-1 with the hem of his blanket grasped in one of his feet. He reached up and gave the droid a pat on the head. BD-1 had stayed with him, even when he had been ready to lie down on the ice and give up. Cal had never been so grateful to have a friend in that moment of horrible emptiness.

As he drifted to sleep, he became aware of a stillness inside him, seeping into the space that had ached with doubt and regret for the past five years. Cal thought it might be something like peace, but he was asleep before he knew for sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains MAJOR SPOILERS for the end of the game.  
> Large spoilers.  
> Big ones.

The shards of the broken holocron glittered under the _Mantis’_ running lights. Cal touched a fingertip to a sliver and felt only a faint ripple in the force-- just a shadow, already fading. Cere swept the pieces across the table into her palm, then unceremoniously tipped them into the garbage disposer.

“After all that, we just dump it into space,” Greez said. 

“Better than the alternative,” Cere said, and Cal heard the disappointment in her voice. He wished he could have a few minutes alone with her, to talk about the ordeal on Nur. Maybe later, when they had both recovered and had some time to themselves.

His chest was hurting again, and he realized he needed to sit down badly. He could feel the thrum of Mantis’ engines through his body, pulsing strangely in his head and under his ribs. The deck felt unsteady under his boots. He sank back down to the sofa next to Merrin.

“Cal?” Cere asked, looking at him closely. 

“Just felt a little weird for a second,” he said, but his voice sounded strained, and talking hurt his ribs. On the table, BD-1 looked up at him and made a soft, worried beep.

“You should lie back down,” Greez said. Cal agreed with him. He pushed himself to his feet and the whole deck slipped sideways. Pain shot through his chest and down his side. He reached out and braced his hand on a bulkhead for support. Merrin appeared at his side and slipped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“Come, Cal Kestis, you need to rest,” she said. She walked him back to his bunk and eased him down onto it. 

“Do I look that bad?” Cal asked her.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly. “Though not as bad as when I pulled you from the water. You were not breathing.” A chill ran through him. When he looked up at her, she looked troubled and did not meet his eyes. “You should get out of your wet clothes,” she said abruptly. She turned on her heel and was gone, leaving Cal alone.

Cal shivered. He needed to get out of his jacket and shirt so that he could put a clean bandage on his ribs. He unfastened his jacket and removed it, revealing the long slice in the shirt he wore underneath. Someone--Cal wasn’t sure who-- had slapped an emergency pressure bandage over his wound after he had been pulled from the water.

He pulled his shirt over his head, wincing. He bent over to unbuckle his boots and nearly passed out. Spots crawled across his vision as the wound sent a spike of pain straight through him. BD-1 hopped onto his bunk and made a querying beep. 

“Yeah. Just need a minute,” he said. He got his boots and pants off and sat up carefully, leaning against the bulkhead behind him for support. It was chilly against the bare skin of his shoulders and Cal shivered. BD-1 looked up at him, his head cocked to one side in an expression of concern. 

A white square bandage was stuck to his ribs, covering the burn. Cal vaguely remembered hands on his chest, the feeling of his jacket and shirt being cut open, and the flash of pain as the bandage was pressed hard against the wound. The bandage hadn’t sealed properly to his wet skin and the edges were peeling up. He was afraid of what was underneath.

“Get Cere if I pass out?” Cal asked BD-1. The droid gave an affirmative beep. Cal grasped the edge of the bandage and peeled it off in one motion, cringing as it tugged at his skin. He looked down at his chest, curious about what the wound looked like.

It was a hole, the blackened edge dark against his skin. It was a little smaller than the width of his palm but deep, and breathing hurt. Seeing it sent a wave of dizziness through him. He shivered. The cold of Nur’s water seemed to go all the way to his bones. The only part of him that felt warm at all was the searing burn in his chest. 

He reached for the medkit sitting on his workbench and opened it on his lap. It was an Imperial-issue field emergency kit, well stocked with a variety of supplies. He rifled through bandages and ampoules of painkillers, meant for serious combat injuries. He found another pressure dressing: a large bandage impregnated with bacta meant for blaster burns. He sprayed the wound down with stinging disinfectant and smoothed the fresh bandage over his chest with shaking fingers.

BD-1 beeped at his knee and when Cal looked down, he had a stim shot ready. Cal knew it would help the pain, but also keep him up for the whole ship’s night.

“Thanks buddy, but I need to sleep.” Cal eased himself down onto his bunk and drew the blanket over him. He reached up and shut off the lamp above his bed. BD-1 made a soft, curious _boop_.

“Yeah, it hurts,” Cal said. The wound throbbed under the bandage, pain spreading out across his chest. His throat hurt, too, and Cal knew that the feeling of invisible but very real fingers around his neck would be with him for a long time. 

BD-1’s weight left his bunk and he jumped up onto Cal’s workbench. Cal heard him power down, leaving his quarters dark and quiet except for the soothing hum of the _Mantis’_ engines. 

Cal dreamed of icy water and hard fingers clamped around his throat. He woke with a start, certain that he had been trying to scream. Sweat slicked his chest, and his blanket felt too hot and rough against his skin. He tossed it to the floor and immediately felt too cold. He lay still, listening to his heartbeat hammering in his ears, goosebumps prickling on his arms.

He sat up carefully, wincing as the wound pulled. He knew it had been just a bad dream, but it felt so real. He drew his knees up and leaned his elbows on them, relieved that he could take deep, clean breaths. He touched his neck and felt the tenderness of bruising, as real as if it had been caused by a physical hand. His throat felt dry and sore. He hoped a drink of water would help.  


He got out of bed and pulled on a clean shirt and pants. The _Mantis_ and her crew were asleep, the lights dim. The deck was cold under Cal’s bare feet as he walked as quietly as he could to the small kitchen. 

Merrin slept curled on the couch, her slim form draped in a blanket. The _Mantis_ didn’t have enough sleeping quarters for four, and she had never complained. Cal hoped he wouldn’t wake her.

The water was cool and soothing on his throat, and Cal refilled his cup before turning to head back to his bunk. The sound of running water seemed too loud in the quiet of ship’s night.

When he turned around, Merrin was sitting up, pushing her long silvery hair out of her eyes. 

“Cal? Are you okay?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep. Cal was glad that it was dark, so that she couldn’t see the flush he felt creeping across his cheeks.

“I’m fine. Sorry I woke you up,” he said, keeping his voice low. She frowned.

“You don’t look very well.”

“Yeah, almost drowning will do that to you,” he said, aiming for levity but failing. He immediately regretted speaking. Merrin’s eyes were dark in the low lighting.

“I am sorry I was not there sooner,” she said, her voice somber. 

“No, that’s not what-- you were perfect, you saved us,” he blurted, feeling unbearably awkward. He remembered how difficult it had been to earn her trust, and he feared he had broken it with his careless words.

Heat prickled all over him, and he felt both too warm and freezing cold. His wound felt like hot lead in his chest. He braced a hand on the kitchen table to steady himself. Merrin’s face was impossible to read in the dim light. Cal hoped this was another strange dream, but he knew better. He wondered if he should just put himself in the airlock now.

“Go back to sleep,” Merrin said gently. 

“Yeah,” Cal said, and walked back to his quarters. 

He retrieved his blanket from the floor and stretched out on his bunk. He still felt feverish and unsettled, and when he finally fell asleep, his dreams were as dark and cold as Nur’s ocean.

Cal woke slowly, the familiar bulkheads of his quarters resolving around him. He rubbed at his gritty eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented. The _Mantis’_ engines weren’t running, and he wondered where they had landed. 

He eased himself up, feeling every bruise and pulled muscle from his escape from Nur’s fortress. His entire body ached, and the wound in his chest still burned and throbbed. He felt badly rested, the memories of bad dreams still close by. He hoped a shower and breakfast would help dispel his lingering uneasiness.

He grabbed his clean clothes and shuffled to the ‘fresher. He examined himself in the mirror: his hair was disordered and slept-on, stiff with dried salt from his swim, and his cheek was creased from his pillow. Bruises bloomed across his right side and hipbone where he had been thrown around by the Sith Lord. Deep purple marks ringed his neck and Cal touched one of them with a finger, wincing at the soreness. The circles under his eyes were nearly as dark. He hoped getting cleaned up would make him feel a little better.

When he emerged from the shower, dressed and feeling more alive, he found his companions gathered at the table, eating breakfast. Cal slid into his chair next to Merrin and Greez poured him a cup of caf. 

“How are you feeling?” Cere asked. Cal dumped several spoonfuls of sweetener into his mug and sipped the caf. He wasn’t sure how to answer. 

“Better,” he said. It wasn’t quite the truth, but he didn’t feel like talking about it. Cere raised a brow but didn’t press him. 

“How are you?” he asked her. 

“Better,” she said, and Cal knew she understood how he felt. 

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“Bogano,” Greez said. Cal tensed. 

“But the Empire followed us here,” he said.

“The Empire seems to have withdrawn its forces,” Cere said. “All our scans show nobody’s here. I thought it might be good to land here for a while and regroup.”

“I guess there’s no point in staying, since the holocron’s gone,” Cal said. 

“They will be back,” Merrin said. “If there is anything to extract from the planet.” 

Cal knew she was right. The thought of Bogano torn up by Imperial machinery saddened him, and once again he wondered what exactly he and Cere and Greez had put in motion with their search.

Greez spooned a large helping of fruit and hot cereal onto Cal’s plate.

“Eat that,” he said. “You still look like you might fall over.” Cal ate a few spoonfuls to appease him, then realized he was actually very hungry. He was acutely aware of Merrin sitting next to him, cutting a piece of fruit into precise wedges. Cal wondered if she harbored any ill will towards him after last night. He knew he needed to talk to her.

Cere finished her tea and got up from the table. She opened the _Mantis’_ hatch and fresh air poured in, ruffling Cal’s hair. Bogano always smelled clean, with no hint of corruption or pollution. Cal had the sudden desire to go for a walk, despite his various aches.

“Going out?” he asked Cere. 

“I wanted to go through Cordova’s things, in case the Empire does come back,” she said. Cal understood what she left unsaid: that she needed time alone after what happened on Nur. 

“Sounds nice,” Cal said.

“You should all go out and get some fresh air,” she added. 

“Absolutely not,” Greez said, folding his arms over his chest. Cere laughed. 

“It’s never too late to change, Greez,” she said, her words trailing off as she walked outside.

Cal scraped his plate clean and got up from the table. Being outside always helped him focus his mind. He hoped spending time in Bogano’s sunshine would clear some of the darkness that had followed him since Nur. 

He got his boots on and clipped his lightsaber to his belt. BD-1 beeped hello from the workbench.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Cal asked him. BD trilled happily. Cal picked him up and put him on his shoulder.

As long as he moved carefully, the wound didn’t hurt too much. He knew he wouldn’t be doing any running or climbing, but Bogano had plenty of easy walking paths and places to stop and rest. 

“I’m going out,” he said to Greez and Merrin. 

“Don’t get eaten,” Greez said. 

“Hasn’t happened yet,” Cal said. Merrin gave him a fond look. 

“I will go with you.”

“Sure,” Cal said. A little thrill of excitement ran through him at the promise of her company. “Greez, will you be okay here?”

“Aw yeah, I wanted to make sure the _Mantis_ didn’t lose anything when Merrin cloaked her,” Greez said. 

“I left everything just as I found it,” Merrin said. Greez gave her a doubtful look. He shooed them towards the door.

“Go on, I’ve got things to do,” he said. 

Bogano’s clear blue sky was unclouded by pollution, the warm sunshine welcome after days in space. Cal hoped that the Empire had withdrawn forever, before Bogano was spoiled by their mining or manufacturing.

“It’s very beautiful here,” Merrin said, looking out over the grassy plains. 

“Yeah. Pretty different from Bracca. Or Dathomir.”

“It’s nice to be somewhere the Empire hasn’t ruined,” she said. Cal bit his lip.

“We brought them here,” he said. “Like you said, it’s only a matter of time.” Cal felt the bitterness rising in him again, and he fought to let it go. Merrin looked at him. She hadn’t pinned her hair up today, and a few strands caught in the breeze, drifting across her face. Cal had a strong urge to reach across and brush it out of her eyes. He doubted she would like that.

“There’s a creature that lives here,” he told her. “It’s called a binog. He left when the Empire came.” _When they followed us here._ he thought.

“Do you think this binog would come back, since they’ve gone?” Merrin asked.

“Maybe. We could go see. He stayed on the plain, over there.” Cal pointed across the Divide.

“Are you well enough to walk?” she asked. 

“It’ll be a slow walk,” Cal said. He still felt weaker than he would have liked. The brand on his chest ached and his body felt bruised and sore, but the thought of being stuck on the _Mantis_ was worse than the pain of the wounds. 

BD-1 gave a skeptical beep. 

“I’m fine,” he told the droid. Merrin cocked her head at him, also skeptical.

“You should not lie to your friends.” 

Cal didn’t know how to respond to that. He was often caught off guard by Merrin’s sharp perception. She had been right about the holocron, and the Empire, and Cal wondered what else he had been blind to.

He took a half-step towards her, closing the space between them a fraction. She was only a little shorter than he was, and when he looked into her eyes they were warm, lined in dark kohl. He reached out and took her right hand in his, curling his fingers around hers. She didn’t tense or pull away. 

He had always told her the truth.

“I’m not lying,” he said simply. His physical wounds hurt, but the old pain he had carried for so long had dulled. His life in hiding on Bracca seemed very far away, and for the first time in years he didn’t feel hunted. He hoped that Jaro Tapal would be proud of who he had become.

Merrin gave him a long, thoughtful look, and Cal realized how close she stood to him, the warmth of her hand in his, the way her dark eyes seemed to look right into him, and the way those eyes flicked to his mouth for the smallest of moments before meeting his gaze. She raised her left hand and lightly touched the side of his neck, grazing her fingers across the bruising. Cal held himself still, even though he wanted to lean into that touch.

“Cere said you both fought a Sith lord. He did this?” she asked, looking at the bruises.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cal said. “He was... incredibly strong.” 

“And yet you are fine?”

“It’s a lot to think about, but yeah, I’m okay.” Merrin gave him a look that Cal couldn’t read.

“You are a mysterious person, Cal Kestis,” she said at last. Cal didn’t know how to answer her. Instead, he squeezed her hand and she tightened her grip on him, lacing their fingers. 

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you around.”

He found an easy path that would take them around the rim of the Divide. Merrin walked beside him, matching his slow pace. Cal was grateful that she didn’t seem to mind taking the long way around. He enjoyed her company and the feeling of her hand clasped in his.

He had been drawn to Merrin since he met her on Dathomir, but she intimidated him too. She was a survivor, like him, and he saw the loneliness and anger in her that he knew so well. He didn’t know if she felt the same way about him, and he thought it was best to keep his feelings to himself. She was his friend, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable any more than he already had.

They climbed out of one of the limestone basins that pocked the plains, and Cal saw the huge gray shadow of the binog, back in his resting place across the Divide. The binog whuffled and snorted at them. Cal was glad to see him again. It felt like seeing an old friend.

“Say hello,” Cal said to Merrin. The binog flopped over onto his side, showing his enormous pale belly. 

“He’s beautiful,” Merrin said. “He reminds me of the ancient creatures on Dathomir.” She leaned into Cal’s side. He hadn’t put his jacket on, and her warmth soaked through his light, short-sleeved shirt and bare arm.

“It’s good to see him back,” Cal said. “Maybe we didn’t ruin everything after all.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said firmly. Cal looked down at his boots. He could think of about a dozen mistakes he had made in the last couple of days alone, all of which had nearly gotten him and Cere killed.

“You didn’t see what happened in the fortress,” he said, more bitterly than he meant to. Merrin touched his cheek and Cal looked at her. He held completely still, afraid to move and break her touch. 

“I did not need to. You survived and we are all safe.” She spoke with conviction, and her words sank into him, easing the anxiety he had carried since the fight in the fortress. He knew she was right: his friends were safe and the _Mantis_ was safe. He felt something tight unclench in his chest.

Merrin took a step closer and slid her fingers through his hair to rest her hand on the nape of his neck. “I would like to kiss you, Cal.” 

A thrill of excitement and anticipation ran through him like electric sparks.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. 

Merrin leaned in and pressed her mouth against his, and Cal could only think about how good it was to kiss her. She kept him close with one hand on his nape and the other on his chest, careful of the wound. She didn’t have to worry, Cal thought; he didn’t intend to move away.

He wrapped his arms around Merrin’s waist, pulling her close. She was warm all along his front. He deepened the kiss, paying attention to any signs of hesitation from her. She kissed him back just as hard, and he tried to push his anxious thoughts about whether or not he was doing this right out of his mind.

Merrin pulled back, breaking the kiss and Cal remembered that he needed to breathe.

“Wow,” was all he could think, and all he could say. She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. 

“Indeed,” she said. Pink bloomed across her cheeks under the tattoos. His own face felt hot, and he knew his flush was obvious. He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb brush her cheekbone. 

Cal felt joy welling up in his chest, a pure, bright rush that made him feel lightheaded. He took a shaky breath, trying to slow his racing heart. His wound had begun to ache again, and something in his face must have given it away. 

“Cal? Do you need to sit down?” Merrin looked concerned.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, mentally kicking himself for ruining the moment. He sank down onto the grass and stretched out flat. BD-1 jumped from his shoulder and landed beside him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing the pain to subside. 

Gentle fingers touched his forehead, smoothing back his hair. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Merrin had sat down beside him.

“Better?” she asked him. The lightheaded feeling had passed, and the ache of the wound was fading. Cal nodded.

Merrin leaned down to kiss him again, her hands on his shoulders, pressing him gently into the ground. Cal drew his fingers over the curve of her hip and the small of her back, and wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her close.

“If the Empire comes, tell them I’m not moving,” he said against her neck as he explored the tender spot near her jaw. 

“We will fight them off from here,” Merrin agreed, before turning her head to kiss him deeply. 

BD-1 beeped enthusiastically, startling them both out of the kiss. Merrin leaned back and Cal propped himself up on his elbows to look down at the droid. He glanced at Merrin, whose eyes were glowing with stifled laughter and his annoyance evaporated.

“Yes, you too,” Cal said. BD-1 looked from him to Merrin and gave him another cheerful beep. 

Cal flopped back onto the grass. Merrin kissed him on the forehead, then his mouth, then lay down beside him. She gazed up at the sky, her head pillowed on her arm. 

Once, Cal dreaded being alone with his thoughts. Now he welcomed the peaceful quiet around him, and the calm he felt within himself. It still felt fragile and small, like one of the seedlings he had brought to Greez. It had taken him so long to find it, and he knew that with time and care it would become strong, a deep well to draw from.

He closed his eyes and felt the sunshine on his face, the damp, sun-warmed earth through his shirt. The breeze stirred his hair, and he could hear all of the sounds of Bogano’s life around him, grounding him. 

He reached out and took Merrin’s hand, and they didn’t move for a long time.


End file.
